It's all quacking good fun

Fic: Right on the Tip of My Tongue (wincest, M)

Title: Right on the tip of my tonguePairing: Sam Winchester/Dean WinchesterRating: MKinks/Warnings: facials, come play, dominant!Sam, size kink, manhandling, naked Dean, not so naked Sam, power play, Summary: Sam made it clear where they stood. It was Dean’s fault that he hadn’t realised exactly what that meant.a/n: this was written for the SMPC. I’ve had a hard time coming up with ideas this month, so a big thankyou to @unforth-ninawaters for nudging my brain in the right direction. Well. A direction. And a thank you to @disizletzi and @samanddeaninpanties for the super speedy beta! Extra thanks for @disizletzi for the bump (and dialogue) to finish this in a much more satisfying manner.

~o~

“I wanna push you down to your knees then come all over your face. Then... then I think I'd like to lick it off. I think now’s a great time. Don’t you, Dean?”It was said in such a deadpan tone of voice that, at first, Dean didn’t realise what the words meant. Once his brain caught up though, he dropped the dishcloth he was holding and turned around to stare at his brother. Aghast. Because what the actual fuck?“You want to what?”Sam’s eyes darkened, and he stalked forward. Moving backwards Dean felt the press of the bench against the small of his back and regretted his every life decision up until this point.

He regretted not teaching Sammy how to ask - properly. He regretted not teaching Sammy how to take no for an answer. He regretted the moment he entered into Sam's weird game. But most of all he regretted not putting more space between them.

Or at least... not making sure there was a door and an escape route.

There was no more time for regrets when Sam's hands tightened over Dean's biceps (and for fuck's sake, Dean was strong, a manly man with the muscles to match, and the way that Sam's hands seemed able to effortlessly span each and every part of his body...)

The wandering thoughts lost him any advantage he had: Sam was pressed against his body, those big, strong hands both pushing him back and drawing him near. How the fuck was that even possible?

"I thought we were past this," Sam's voice tickled his ear, even as the long hair tickled his cheek.

"Past... this?"

Yeah, Dean was playing for time. He knew very well what this was. This was him and Sam taking that final step from loving brothers, to brother loving perverts. When this had all started (months? Weeks? Time moved strangely when you were inking about your brother’s ass), when Sam had first mentioned he was interested in Dean, as in fucking his brother, he'd taken every fucking opportunity to tell him what he wanted to do. In graphic detail. And Dean, sucker that he was, took him up on that offer.

Of course Sam hadn't come in this hard. In fact, at first, he'd given him space. And that was Dean’s downfall. He’d believe the softly-softly approach. And it had given him time to get used to the idea of fucking his brother, and to think about it. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

After all, Dean liked sex. And more than one lover had compare home - favourably - to a sex god. Which was really fair enough, because he was damn good at sex. He could be a focused kind of guy, lavishing attention on his lovers’ body, bringing them to climax again and again, taking pleasure, of course, but giving it too. Giving it over and over and over.

Dean loved making his lover feel good.

So when Sam started dropping his hints that he’d like to take it further… Well, Sammy was a good looking man, and with his soft smile and gentle eyes, Dean was lulled into a false sense of security. He thought about sweet, gentle Sam, about how it would be. And he could totally see it: in his fantasies, it went the way it had always gone, with Dean in charge. He’d be the one to take Sam in hand, and together they’d explore Sam’s long, lean length, finding out what brought Sam pleasure, what made him moan, what made his eyes close and his thighs shake, how fast he could come, how fast he’d get hard again…

Once it had been suggested, the idea had set up shop in his mind. Of course he’d thought about it! Right down the very last detail.

Which was great, except that wasn’t the reality, not even close. Because even though Dean thought he knew his brother, he was really fucking wrong...

Because once Sam realised Dean was on board, that it was a matter of when, not if, they fell into bed, he upped his game. His suggestions became more… intense. They were often accompanied by his hands on Dean - on his arm, on his neck, and on his goddamn ass! Dean figured it was a game of sexual chicken. And each time the stakes had gotten higher and higher. Sam's fault, Dean's mind immediately supplied. And it was! How was he to know that his game of sexual chicken would end up... well, here.

Here pushed up against a wall because Sam wanted to come all over his face. Kinky fucker. It wasn’t that Dean was… opposed to his brother’s kinky games. Not all of them. At least not once he’d thought about it...

But no. He had limits. And while he could probably deal with Sam coming all over his face, licking it off? That was highly unsanitary.

Probably.

Not that Sam had a problem with it. Although he didn’t like Dean’s response. Fascinated, Dean watched as Sam's mouth tightened, the relaxed into a smile. He looked like he had Dean all figured out.

“Past you pretending that you don't want this. Because I know you want me, Dean. And I’m pretty sure you want to drop to your knees and-”

Sometimes it was amazing how wrong Sam could be.

“Shit! Is that the time? Forgot I had an appointment. I’ll be right back, Sammy, don’t you worry and then we can continue this fascinating conversation- ouch!”

The fucker bit his ear. All thoughts of hygiene fled his mind as, shrugging a shoulder free, Dean reached up to scrub at it. Sam had sharp teeth.

“What is with you and biting?”

Instead of answering, Sam leant down, lips brushing across Dean’s cheek… his jaw… down his throat where Sam’s breath warmed his fluttering pulse… before moving lower to where his shoulder met his neck, he latched on.

“So if I let you come all over my face, you’ll stop with the biting.” He left out the licking it up bit.

Sam’s face took on haughty lines. “Of course not. The only way I’d stop biting you is if I could keep your face marked at all times-“

“-the fuck?”

“Which doesn't work if I lick you clean-"

"Sam!"

"-and even if I left it there to dry, it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Dean had opened his mouth, to somehow counter Sam, and found himself speechless. Oozing satisfaction, Sam waited a few moments before dropping a kiss on his brother’s cheek.

“Every second of every day I want everyone to know that your ass is off the market, that you are mine.”

Coughing, Dean’s mouth worked silently a few times before he finally managed, “You are batshit crazy, Sam. You can’t just say… I mean, that isn’t how…”

Dean trailed off and Sam smirked at him.

“Good talk, Dean.”

~o~

“This meal looks delicious, Dean.”

Looking up sharply, Dean stared at his brother, before relaxing and nodding. It did look delicious, he was just that awesome. In the last few days, Sam had completely backed off, and hadn’t mentioned anything weirder than wanting sex with his brother. What did it say about his life, that incest was the most normal thing on the table? Dean allowed himself to grin at that, safe in the belief that Sam would never violate their verbal ceasefire at the dinner tabl-

“Of course. I'd enjoy it a lot more if you were sitting there naked, covered in my come.”

Slamming his cutlery down, Dean shot Sam an affronted look.

“Seriously?”

Placing his cutlery much more gently, Sam pierced him with his eyes. “Seriously. In fact, I don’t know why we haven’t-”

Sam kept talking, and Dean frowned. So. Sam wasn’t going to let it drop. This should not have been a surprise. Sam was the most stubborn son of a bitch he’d even met. And that included his father. But Dean didn’t think he’d be able to deal with more of the sad looks, heavy sighs that were sure to come now that Sam had stepped up the campaign again…

“-and, if you considered it, I think you’d agree. Right, Dean?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure.”

Shit. Fuck. What the fuck are you doing? He berated himself. Could there be a worse time to not listen to Sam's ideas? Dean's stomach dropped as Sam stared at him, delighted.

“I knew if you thought it through, properly, you’d see it my way, Dean!”

As Sam descended on him, Dean once again cursed his life decisions.

~o~

“Dean…”

Sam’s voice held a warning that Dean stubbornly refused to listen to. Wrapping his arms tightly around his body, he stared Sam in the eye.

“I don’t see why I have to be naked. You want to come on my face. Well, come on my face! Ain’t nothing on it at the moment. And if you don’t hurry the fuck up then there won’t - hey!”

Apparently, Sam had reached his limit. Somehow, Dean agreeing to his... this, whatever this was, meant that he had to do what San wanted. Which is how Dean found himself backed against the wall, shirt removed, jeans down around his ankles.

His cry of Sam, wait! did absolutely nothing. Except perhaps get his boxers removed quicker.

And where did that leave him? Naked and attempting to cover the good bits while Sam surveyed him. The fucker looked far too pleased.

“That’s better. Don’t you feel more comfortable now?”

“No I fucking well don’t!” It wasn’t a shriek. Dean would deny that to his dying day. Still. He made an effort to get some of his control. “This doesn’t even make sense, Sammy. You're the one who needs to get his dick out."

On his knees before Sam, Dean reflected that it was probably better to get this over and done with. At least Sam's dick was out now. That meant they could get started.

They weren't though. Sam cupped his heavy length in hand and stared at Dean. He said nothing, which gave Dean ample time to reflect on their inequities. And complain about them.

"Wanna get a bit more naked there, Sam? Feels a little unfair y'know."

Dean wasn't ashamed of his body. He knew he looked good. And he wasn’t unaware of Sam. Even without this, he'd seen a lot of his brother. Impossible not to, sharing the same space. But since Sam had made his intentions clear… well. Dean realised that Sam was an exhibitionist. He paraded himself around. More than once Dean had seen a tight ass disappearing around the corner, or come across Sam, walking from the bathroom, drying his hair, naked as the day he was born. S

This just made his current state of dress all the more annoying!

“Come on, Sam!” Dean opened his mouth to complain. Then had to laugh. “Come. On. Get it Sam? Come on?”

Sam just smiled, and fisted himself gently a few times. Dean considered glaring, but couldn’t help watching as Sam stroked along the length of his cock. Just as there was no way he could have stopped himself from licking his lips. Sam was big. Perhaps bigger than any other cock he’d ever sucked.

He couldn’t wait to choke on it.

In fact that was a better idea…

“Next time I’ll fuck your face, Dean.”

So that wasn’t on the cards for now. He could still enjoy watching Sam firmly grip that monster, watching it swell in Sam’s hand. It was red and hard and -

“Close your eyes, Dean.”

Dean glared. That didn’t seem fair. He did not want to close his eyes. He wanted to watch the way Sam caressed himself, to see whether he liked to touch himself gently or firmly. Already he was swelling and Dean wanted to see how big he’d get. He wanted to see Sam slick himself with precome. He wanted to see the way his face flushed as he got turned on, how his breath caught as he was close to coming.

Why should Sam get all the fun? Dean’s mouth firmed.

“C’mon, Sam. Aren’t we both supposed to have fun here?”

Sam took a shuddering breath and a giant step back. Mouth in tight painful line, he let his hand fall from his cock. Dean couldn’t help but notice how it was still so firm and hard. And veiny. And red. Damn… the things he could do…Dean let himself drift, thinking of all the things he could do, if he could just get his hands, or mouth, on that cock.

Dean was so caught up in his fantasies, it was quite the shock to find that Sam had tucked himself away, his jeans once again buttoned up.

What the fuck?

“Sam…?”

Sam pinned him with the puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean. I can tell you don’t really want this. I… I don’t want to make you do something you don’t’ want to do. Even though…” trailing off, Sam sighed sadly before he shook his head, face now awash with determination. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m sorry I pushed you, Dean. It won’t happen again.”

Dean was still naked and on his knees when Sam left the room.

What the fuck was that about?

~o~

For the next week, Dean didn’t know what to think. Not only did Sam not push the whole… coming on his face thing… he didn’t push anything. He didn’t even tell Dean he was sexy and fuckable. And he missed it.

Maybe he’d given Sam the wrong idea. Could Sam really think Dean didn’t want any of it? It was just that weird licking thing. And some of the other weird but oddly fascinating ideas that Sam came up with. But mainly the licking thing. Maybe… maybe he could compromise on that? After all, Sam would be doing the licking. And if Sam wanted to be unhygienic, well, that was his choice. Wasn’t like Dean had been covered in worse things.

Sure of his decision, Dean now had to let Sam know. Now was not the time to be subtle.

~o~

Sam was back from his morning run and in the shower. If he kept his schedule (and why would he change?), Dean had 12 minutes. As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, Dean sprang into action.

Three minutes to shed his clothes and sprint down the hall, into Sam’s room. Another seven to pace the length of the room. And then with two minutes to spare, kneel at the foot of Sam’s bed and try and decide the best way to tell Sam he’d changed his mind.

Exactly two minutes later the door opened and Sam entered the room. He stopped as soon as he saw Dean, mouth dropping open and his towel tented. Dean nodded. That was more like it.

“Dean…?”

Sam’s voice was soft and uncertain. Dean grinned, all cocky confidence. He had this. He knew exactly what to say.

"Come on, I get it, I'll do what you want, just fucking jizz on my face, man."

“I… you what, Dean?”

Shit. Sam looked as shocked as Dean felt. That was not what he meant to say.

“I…” Fuck. Straightening his back, Dean glared straight at his brother. “You heard me. I don’t know what happened, but if jazzing on my face is so important,” Dean closed his eyes and pushed his chin forward, “well, go ahead. I’m ready.”

Silence greeted his pronouncement.

“Sam?”

He could now hear Sam’s footsteps around the room. The sound of a drawer opening and of fabric piling on the floor. Did that mean he was naked? Opening one eye, Dean looked at his brother. Who now had boxers in his hand.

What the fuck?

"I don’t know Dean… Can I really trust you? How do I know you won’t pull out at the last second, like you did last time?”

Dean winced at the pointed remark.

“C’mon, Sam. You just sort of threw it at me! What was I supposed to do?”

“But don’t you see, Sam? I do want this! The thought of you coming all over my face and… and licking it off. Don’t you think that’s hot?”

Apparently Sam did. Tossing the boxers on the bed, he strode towards Dean, his cock jutted forward proudly. Apparently Sammy really did want to do this. Sam looked at him expectantly, and Dean obediently closed his eyes. Immediately he was rewarded with Sam’s hand in his hair.

“That’s right, Dean. Close your eyes and keep them closed for me. Fuck! I don’t think you know how gorgeous you are. Your mouth is so pink - and I can’t fucking wait to get my cock in there… And you’re freckles…” Letting go of his hair, Sam now trailed his fingers across Dean’s cheek. “Can’t wait to cover them.”

When Sam moved his hand this time, it was to his cock. Not that Dean could see, but the huffed breaths and grunting were music to his ear. He tipped his head back again and Sam groaned.

“Fuck, Dean, you look so goo-ood.”

Dean kept perfectly still until he felt the first hot splashes strike his face, across one cheek it dripped down until it hit the corner of his mouth. Dean knew what to do. He let his lips part, and got his first taste of Sam’s come. He kept his mouth open, feeling the wet heat hit his eyelashes and then his mouth again.

“Fuck. You look so good like this, Dean. All marked up, all covered in my come.”

Dean heard Sam dropdown in front of him, before strong hands grabbed his shoulders, jerking him forward. Sam’s mouth was hard and messy as it hit his, biting at him, before he licked across Dean’s mouth, smearing his come before licking up all traces of his claim.

It didn’t stop there, of course. Wet, open mouthed kisses punctuated with long swipes of Sam’s hot and firm tongue, mapped their way across Dean’s face. Once his lips were clear, Sam lathed Dean’s cheeks - one then the other. As Dean’s face became cleaner, Sam’s lips gentled until finally they reclaimed Dean’s mouth. Now clear, Sam plundered Dean’s mouth, tongue demanding entrance that was willingly given. He could taste Sam and damn if that wasn’t hot.

When Sam finally pulled away, Dean was left panting. At least Sam’s breathing was rough too. Before Dean could come up with a response, he felt Sam’s lip find that spot on his shoulder. Which was all the warning he had before Sam bit down.

Dean’s eyes flew open and he attempted to jerk forward. He was, however, locked in Sam’s embrace. That was the only reason Sam didn’t punch his brother.

“Son of a fucking bitch! What the fuck are you doing, Sam?”

Sam’s smug look was back in full force as he stared at Dean’s rapidly purpling skin.

“Just a reminder, Dean, that your ass is now off the market, that you are mine.”